Two Birds, One Stone
by Carol
Summary: Dean is about to drop from illness and burn out and desperately needs a rest. Unfortunately, Lucifer has other plans for him and his brother. Will they survive? Major Hurt/Sick/Angsty Dean, Hurt/Angsty Sam, Angsty Cas
1. Chapter 1

Two Birds, One Stone

By Carol M.

Summary: Dean's about to drop from illness and burn out and desperately needs a rest. Unfortunately, Lucifer has other plans for him and Sam. Will they survive? Major Hurt/Sick/Angsty Dean, Hurt/Angsty Sam, Angsty Cas

Disclaimer: Don't own em, only love em

Spoilers: Up to Changing Channels

Apologies to Dean in advance. He's really going to be put through the ringer on this one. I'll make it up to him, I promise. Enjoy!

Part 1

The dry heaves were really going to be the thing that killed Dean Winchester. Not some encounter with a demon. Not some pissed off angel. Not even Lucifer himself. Nope, in the end, it would be the dry heaves.

His stomach spasmed painfully as another heave tore through his body. He wished he was actually throwing up. Then at least he would feel like he was accomplishing something. But throwing up had ceased a few hours ago, when all the contents of his stomach had exploded out of him and splatted against the wall of the crummy motel room that he and Sam had been held up in for the past three days. That was the spew that had ended with his brother hauling him to the car and dragging him to the E.R.

They were currently in a curtained off triage room with Dean bent over a garbage can with only spittle and bile coming out of him. The acid of the bile burned his already tremendously sore throat, and the bent over position was making him even dizzier than he already was. And he was hot. And he was cold. And there was snot. And lot's of hacking. Yep, he was pretty much a mess from head to toe.

Dean felt a hand rubbing a pattern of soothing circles against the small of his back. Sam. He felt too miserable to even be embarrassed by the act of brotherly love, no matter how chick flicky and pathetic it seemed. He took a deep breath and coughed, his lungs gargling with phlegm. He could feel and taste its salty thick consistency pop into the back of his throat. He spit it out into the trash can. Green. Lovely.

He cautiously straightened back up, feeling Sam's hand move supportively from his back to his shoulder as his brother stepped around to face him. Sam looked freaked out of his freakin' mind. "Dude, you alright?"

Dean didn't have the energy to talk. All he could manage was a small nod.

"The doc'll be back any second now, man. He'll get you straightened out," said Sam.

"Awesome," managed Dean in a small, croaky voice.

He felt his cell phone vibrating in his pocket. Probably Cas calling for the hundredth time that day. He couldn't deal with whatever apocalyptic emergency the angel was going lay at his lap. He ignored the call and fell back against the exam table, the protective paper crinkling underneath him as he reclined into a sitting position.

God, he was tired. The truth was he had felt this coming on for weeks and had done his best to ignore it. He didn't think he could afford to be sick or to sleep or hell, even to stop. The world was coming a part at the seams after all. Eight cases in the last five weeks. A witch. Two demonic possessions. One near Lucifer encounter. There had even been a ghost pirate complete with a ghost parrot. He was still healing from the beak mauling. It seemed like everywhere they turned, someone needed their help. Not to mention the fact that he and Sam were still struggling to build their relationship back up and trust in each other again. It was all too much. He couldn't take it anymore. He felt physically, mentally and emotionally burnt out. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed a rest. And his body was forcing him into it.

One look over at his brother, who was sprawled out on a chair next to the examining table, and he could tell Sam was in the same vote. While he had been dutifully playing nurse maid the last few days, he could see the dark circles of stress and exhaustion under his little brother's eyes. His brother looked like he had aged about ten years in as many weeks. They were both strung out. They needed to chill, at least for awhile. If they didn't, someone was going to get hurt or worse yet, killed.

Dean was trying to muster the energy to share this thought with Sam when the curtain to the examining room opened and his McDreamy look a like doctor appeared. "Buddy, it's exactly what I thought."

Sam sat up attentively. "And what's that?"

"Swine flu. Lab results confirmed it. Pretty nasty case too for someone your age and in your physical condition."

Dean felt the bile rise in his throat. "Swine flu?" he muttered. "Seriously? I actually picked up swine flu? God, I really do need a vacation."

"We'll want to admit you for a few days," said the doctor.

"No," said Dean firmly. The utterance was followed by a trio of harsh sneezes that had Dean seeing stars in his eyes by the end of the third one.

"Dean, maybe you should consider it," said Sam.

Dean shook his head and abruptly stopped when it caused the whole world to spin. "No. No way. Give me some drugs and a shot in the ass, and I'll sleep this mother off."

"Mr. Skinner, with all due respect…"

Dean interrupted by hocking a huge loogie out of his mouth and aimed it to land perfectly in the center of the trash can. He ignored Sam's crinkled nosed look of disgust and laid his sickly eyes on the doctor. "Doc, fix me up however you want to, but I'm not staying."

His voice was firm, but his body was once again betraying him. He felt light headed and nauseous again. The pillow that was perched at the head of the exam table was looking pretty enticing at the moment.

Unfortunately, McDreamy wasn't giving up so easily. "Would you at least consider an I.V. of saline for a few hours? We can get your body rehydrated. Plus I can prescribe some Tamiflu which should ease some of the symptoms. What you really need is good, solid bed rest for the next five to seven days. That and plenty of liquids."

"Fine," said Dean, eyeing the pillow. "A half hour on the I.V."

"An hour," said Sam firmly. "And if he's still in bad shape tomorrow, I'll bring him back in and he can stay overnight."

Dean glared at Sam, but lacked the strength for a fight.

McDreamy nodded his approval. "That'll be fine. I'll send someone in shortly to start the I.V."

"Thanks doctor," said Sam.

The doctor stepped out of the room and redrew the curtain.

"Thanks doctor," mocked Dean in a snot filled voice.

Sam looked irritated. "Dean, you've got the swine flu. This isn't a joke."

"Sammy, if I get taken out by the swine flu, then I was a douche," said Dean lazily. He lost the battle with his tired, sickly body and lay down against the pillow, bringing his arm up to cover his eyes.

"Alright dude, you just voluntarily laid down in a hospital. Now I know your sick," he heard Sam say.

"Whatever," mumbled Dean.

He was falling into light twilight when he heard the curtain being drawn again. He took his arm away from his eyes and drooled as a petite red head dressed in Miss Piggy scrubs with a nametag that read Crystal on it walked into the room. She wheeled a small cart of supplies with her.

"Then again, there are the hot nurses," murmured Dean under his breath.

Sam rolled his eyes and slumped back against his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Someone not feeling good?" said Nurse Crystal as she leaned over Dean.

She ran a soft caressing hand across his forehead. The touch felt surprisingly soothing and Dean felt himself leaning into it, taking a moment of comfort. "Terrible," he responded in his most sickly sounding voice.

Sam snorted. "Watch out for my brother. He can be a real dirty old man."

Nurse Crystal winked at Dean. "My favorite kind of patient."

Dean smiled smugly at Sam.

"Alright sweetness, we're just going to put this little needle in your arm and get you all watered up and fertilized again. Sound good?" said Nurse Crystal.

"Wonderful," responded Dean.

Nurse Crystal readied the needle. "Okay doll face, make a fist for me."

Dean complied and Nurse Crystal examined the veins in the crook of his right arm.

"Here we go," she whispered as he felt the coolness of an alcohol soaked cotton ball rub against the skin of his arm. "Now just a little stick and you'll be golden."

"Be gentle. I'm sensitive," said Dean.

He ignored the loud snort he heard coming from Sam's direction.

"Okay," said Nurse Crystal soothingly.

Dean felt the prick of a needle in the crook of his arm and then felt a slight jar as the needle was hooked up to the I.V. tubing. He didn't flinch. He watched Nurse Crystal hang the I.V. bag and then turn on the drip.

"All done," she said, caressing him under the jaw. "Now just try and relax. I'll be back in a little while to check on you. Is there anything I can get you?"

"Lollipop?" asked Dean, flashing her his best pitiful puppy dog look. "Cherry."

Nurse Crystal smiled flirtatiously as she collected her things.

Sam cleared his throat. "I like orange."

"Yeah, you would," said Dean.

"I'll see what I can do, boys." She opened the curtain and wheeled the cart back out, winking at Dean again before shutting the curtain behind her.

"She wants me," whispered Dean.

"Dude, you have dried puke on your shirt," said Sam.

"So? Maybe she's into that. I like kinky chicks," said Dean as he began to hack guts out. By the time the coughing attack subsided, he was near coma. He tried to fight it and save it for the motel, but he was just too weak.

"Try and sleep for awhile man. Just relax. I'm here," said Sam as he reached over and gave Dean a light tap on the shoulder.

"Thanks Sammy," he murmured.

No sooner had Dean closed his eyes did he feel the vibration of his phone in his pocket. "Aw damn it, Cas!" He pulled the cell out of his pocket, confirming that Castiel was the caller and practically threw the phone at Sam. "Will you tell him I'm indisposed…for eternity!"

Dean shut his eyes again and willed himself to relax, fighting the sinking feeling that was building in his gut. He listened as Sam answered the phone.

"Cas, it's Sam. Now's not a good time. Dean's really sick." Sam paused a moment and then said, "Uh Manatee Memorial Hospital in Bradenton, Florida in a curtained off room to the right of the E.R."

Dean opened his eyes and gave Sam the evil eye. "Don't tell him where we are!"

"Cas, he's laid out with an I.V. in his arm, I…"

The curtain opened and Castiel walked through. He immediately went for the I.V. in Dean's arm and quickly pulled it out, causing Dean to yelp in both pain and surprise. "We have to go right now!" said Castiel.

"Aw dude, come on!" whined Dean. "I'm practically knocking on heaven's door here, man. Oh and thanks for the protection against the swine flu! After all of I've done, you would think you guys could've given me a little angel flu shot or something."

"Dean, I'm sorry, but we don't have time for this." Castiel forcefully tried to drag Dean off the table, which caused the nausea to swirl in his stomach again. The room started to spin and he blinked hard for a moment, trying to steady himself.

Sam stepped protectively between him and Castiel. "Whoa, Cas, easy, he's really sick man. What's going on anyway?"

"Lucifer was able to track your position, and he's sent his most powerful demon minion to capture both of you. He'll be here any second," said Castiel, urgency underlying his words.

On cue, the curtains around the examining room forcefully ripped open, as if a hurricane force wind had invaded the E.R. A male demon dressed in green scrubs walked calmly towards them, his eyes violet and gleaming with absolute menace.

Dean felt a shiver of pure fear shudder through his entire body. "That's so not good," he said as he shared a look of panic with Sam.

He instinctively reached for the knife he kept tucked in his back pocket but before he could grasp it, the knife was ripped out of his pocket by an invisible force and landed into the hands of violet eyes. "I'll take that Mr. Winchester."

"Run!" said Castiel as he grabbed for the demon's knife.

Dean felt Sam grab his hand and forcefully pull him out of the examining room, his dizziness temporarily shut down as adrenaline flowed through his body. They made it about five steps before Dean felt the connection of Sam's hand violently rip away and suddenly they were both flying through the air, Sam towards a wall and Dean towards a glass door that led to another wing of the hospital. He put his arms out protectively over his head as his body smashed right through it, the impact knocking the wind out of him as he fell to the ground in a heap, the glass cutting sharply into the skin of his arms and chest.

The E.R. erupted in chaos around him as Dean struggled to catch his breath. Doctors, nurses and patients alike screamed and went running about aimlessly. He saw Sam lying unconscious on the floor next to the wall he had been thrown into, his head bleeding. Dean tried to call out to him, but he didn't have the breath or the strength. He turned to face Castiel just in time to see the demon fling him against another wall and leave him suspended in mid air against it. The demon then effortlessly picked up Sam with one hand and carried him towards Dean.

"Leave my brother alone," gasped Dean, trying once again to sit up as the demon headed for him, but his body wouldn't let him. Moments later, he felt the hand of the demon snatch him off the floor as well, his world going black as pain and weakness over took him


	2. Chapter 2

Two Birds, One Stone

By Carol M.

See Part 1 for details…

Thanks everyone for your kind words! Enjoy the next part!

Part 2

The first thing Dean became aware of as he regained consciousness was that he was absolutely freezing. A harsh shiver gyrated his whole body, causing the cuts from the glass that had long since crusted over to crack painfully. The ooze of blood caused the cuts to stick to his shirt, pulling and tearing even more in one viscous cycle of stinging pain. He was thankful that he had at least been wearing long sleeves and pants at the time of his cannonball through the glass or else things might have been a lot worse. Not that they weren't totally screwed to begin with.

Dean opened his eyes and saw that he was lying in a heap on the floor of an old abandoned cathedral. The floor was black marble and icy cold to the touch. He rolled over experimentally and his stomach rebelled, sending him straight into dry heaves. He gagged as bile and phlegm mixed in his throat and spewed out of his mouth in a runny string onto the floor. After a few moments, he coughed hard, snot running out of his nose, his eyes watering, his throat on fire.

"I truly do pity you humans for your illnesses," came a voice from somewhere behind him.

Dean jumped in surprise. Lucifer. He didn't bother to turn around. He hocked up a huge loogie and spat it on the floor. "Yeah, I'm sure you do," he said, trying to sit up. He did a three sixty scan of the room for his brother, but Sam was no where to be found. The movement set his head spinning, so instead, he lay back against the floor and closed his eyes, taking in a few raspy, choked breaths as he tried his best not to panic or show fear. "Where's Sam?"

"He's being looked after in another chamber. I want to apologize for the rough treatment. I told my associate to take you gently," said Lucifer.

Dean massaged his eyes with his fingers and then left his hand there, feeling absolutely miserable. "Why?"

"I'm not much for rough handling, Dean. Not unless provoked. That's more Michael's area," responded Lucifer.

"Yeah, I've seen a lot of evidence of that so far," said Dean.

"Situational Dean, situational. Once you get to know me, I'm really quite a nice guy," said Lucifer. "In fact, I'm pleased we get to have a moment to talk alone."

Dean broke into a serious of harsh coughs as phlegm choked his tender throat. He moaned before he could stop himself and put his hand to his chest out of reflex, trying to take in oxygen.

"That sounds bad. You really should see someone," said Lucifer.

Dean took a slow, steadying deep breath, willing his lungs to settle down. After a couple of moments, they cooperated and he was able to get his breath back.

"You know Dean, you don't have to be an enemy. You, obviously Sam, you could join me. You could help me rule the world. There are plenty of angels who've decided to join forces with me and you'd be a perfect vessel for any one of them," said Lucifer.

"No thanks, I'll pass," said Dean. "I'm not really into the destruction of the entire world."

"Collateral damage is an unfortunate repercussion of an epic battle. It's the way war works."

Dean clutched a steadying hand to his chest and forced himself to sit up. He turned to finally face Lucifer. "Yeah, except all the collateral damage so far has been human. Why don't you just go back where you came from, man? I mean, you were already the ruler of Hell. What, you need some other world to reign over? Sounds to me like you're having size issues or something. You're topside, Beelzebub. They've got pumps and implants for that up here."

"I was forced down, Dean. I had to create a world just so I wouldn't go insane. And now, I am in the light. Where I always should've been."

Dean had to stifle a laugh. "Bottom line, dude, whatever gripe you got with God, take it up with him. You may hate humans and have some sort of sicko jealousy daddy issues with us, but guess what? We never did jack squat to you. So go find God and have it out with him. Stop dragging all your personal issues out into our world," said Dean.

Lucifer rose to his feet. "It's because of you…humans…that I was cast out. It's because of you that I lost my father, my family, my whole way of life."

"I could say the same thing about you," said Dean. "It's because of you that I've lost everything…my parents…my friends…a chance at a normal life. But you don't see me taking my issues out on everybody else."

"Don't you Dean? Isn't it you whose spent your whole life killing my creations out of revenge for the death of your mother…and your father?" said Lucifer.

"We kill things that hurt others. They're not innocent. Not like the people on this planet," said Dean.

"Whatever you need to believe to justify it, son," said Lucifer.

"I'm not your son," spit Dean.

"True enough Dean, true enough. You know, I was really hoping this would go better. I wanted to try and spare you more pain and suffering. But unfortunately, I have to think about self preservation. You are, after all, the only human that could possibly be any threat to me down the road. Especially if you get desperate enough to say yes to Michael."

Dean dizzily forced himself to stand and moved towards Lucifer, looking him straight in the eye. "You do what you've got to do."

"I'm sorry, Dean. Truly. It isn't personal. It's simply the way things worked out. Fate if you will."

Dean coughed, his strength waning. "Life's a bitch and then you go to hell, right?

Lucifer smiled pleasantly. He pointed upward and suddenly Dean was floating in the air. The feeling took him off guard, making him feel dizzy and nauseous. He unsteadily eyed Lucifer who was giving him an almost sympathetic look that made him feel even sicker. "I hope that Sam breaks easily, Dean. I really do. For all our sakes."

"He won't," said Dean, gritting his teeth against the need to spew.

Lucifer nodded. He looked at the ground and then back up at Dean, his eyes glowing a fierce red. There was something about the way they glowed that radiated pure evil, invading every pore of Dean's body. He felt like he was turning into a block of ice.

Lucifer's eyes returned to normal and then he waved his right hand casually through the air. At that moment, Dean felt what seemed like a four by four of wood connect like a rocket to his chest. He screamed or more accurately, gasped out in fiery pain as he swore up and down that all of his ribs had just been shattered in his chest.

Lucifer casually lowered his hand and Dean fell like a stone, lights out before he even hit the ground.

Castiel paced with what he guessed a human would call anxiousness in the very back of the Manatee Memorial Hospital parking lot. He was trying to determine if he had made a strategic move or the biggest mistake of his life when Zachariah finally appeared before him.

"Castiel," regarded Zachariah. "You must be pretty well desperate to come crawling back to me."

"Desperate times call for desperate measures," said Castiel. "I'll get right to the point. Lucifer has captured Dean and Sam."

"Is that so?" said Zachariah, his eyes shining with excitement.

"They're going to need help. I've tried to get to Lucifer's location, but my powers are limited. Even more limited then they were before. It seems as if something is blocking them," said Castiel. "Most likely Lucifer himself."

"What do you want Castiel?" asked Zachariah.

"I want you to restore my powers. My full powers. That should override whatever spell Lucifer has working right now," said Castiel.

"I'm afraid I can't do that. Though I do appreciate the intelligence you've provided," said Zachariah. "But we have our standing orders."

"Orders from who? Our father?" asked Castiel.

Zachariah gave him a look. "Let's just say that by this time tomorrow, the apocalypse should be over." He breathed out in awe for a moment. "Wow. Lucifer, Sam, Dean…all in one spot. It couldn't get any better than this. It's a sign! A sign for Michael to come down from heaven and win this war once and for all."

"You can't," said Castiel. "Dean, Sam, the world. They'll all be destroyed."

"It's an attitude like that that got you kicked out of heaven in the first place. If you had just played the game, you'd still have your powers," said Zachariah. "I'm sorry about the roles your human acquaintances have to play in the war. But that's the way it is."

"Do you really think our father would want to see his creations destroyed?" said Castiel. "There has to be another way."

"If our father gave a crap, he would swoop in and save them himself. But he's left it up to us to mind the store. And this is the best course of action for everyone…angel and human. At least the humans will be dying for good, not evil," said Zachariah.

"Who are you to make that call?" said Castiel.

"Do yourself a favor Castiel and let them go. Let all of them go," said Zachariah.

"What are you going to do!?" asked Castiel.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures," said Zachariah. He touched Castiel on the forehead and Cas felt a buzzing in his ears. Then Zachariah was gone.

Castiel tried to take a step, but he was frozen in place. Completely powerless. An intense wave of agony tore through his chest. If he had been human, he would've realized it was terror.

Dean awoke to the sound of someone painfully dry heaving. After a moment, he realized it was himself. He was suspended in mid air again, doubled over on himself like a ninety year old man. That accompanied with the pain from his battered ribs and the swine flu had pretty much set his stomach into rebellion mode. He gasped for air as his stomach contracted painfully, blood tinged bile leaking out of his mouth.

"Dean!"

Sam's voice. For a moment, he felt relief. He dared to straighten up to look at him, but the movement made the heaves about ten times worse.

"Just try and relax, dude," coached Sam. "Try and get your breath. It should make you feel better."

Dean nodded and tried to take a deep breath, which in reality, was really more like a rapid series of shallow wheezes. For his efforts, he was rewarded with a sharp pain across his whole chest that burned through him, threatening to send him back to unconsciousness. He couldn't let that happen though. He couldn't…no…he wouldn't leave his brother alone with Lucifer.

"Slow Dean. I know it hurts, but keep going," he heard Sam say in a very calm voice.

Sam was trying to hold it together for him. The thought gave him a little of his strength back. He took a longer, steadier breath and while it still hurt like hell, he felt better. Then he took another one. And another one. The heaves were starting to lessen now, turning into something more like a hiccup.

"You got it, Dean, you got it," said Sam. "Now let me see that ugly mug of yours."

Dean took several more steadying breaths and slowly tried to uncurl himself. He breathed out as bones and muscle and nerve endings all collided together in his body, setting off fireworks in his midsection that were pure agony. A loud groan escaped from him as he clenched his eyes shut, trying to adjust to the pain.

"Relax Dean," said Sam in the soothing voice of a yoga instructor. "Try and open your eyes."

Dean took one more deep breath and then blinked his eyes opened. The room spun for a moment and he thought he was going to double over and heave. Then he took another breath and the feeling subsided. He blinked and then his brother came into sharp focus. There was a cut and a purple shiner on his forehead. But other than that, he looked okay. Thank god for small favors.

"What's up, Sammy?" he managed in a horribly scratchy voice.

"Dean," said Sam softly, his eyes going puppy dog.

Dean regarded his brother, who sat cross legged on the floor several feet in front of him. He felt a combination of both comfort and terror as he made deep eye contact with him. The vulnerable, sick, hurt side of him was glad he wasn't alone anymore. But the practical, big brother, have to save the world side of him felt downright defeated that Sam was here with him.

Just as the thought entered his brain, Dean felt all the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and his skin pop out into gooseflesh. Lucifer had entered the room. He had come to know the signs intimately.

The devil strode between the two brothers, nodding his head in satisfaction. "You're both awake. That's good."

Lucifer walked to Sam, who Dean could tell was stuck in his position on the floor much like he was stuck in the air. Everything in Dean shuddered as Lucifer got closer to Sam. A wave of sheer protectiveness and the need for control swept over him, and despite his weakness, he wanted to kick Lucifer's ass all the way back to hell.

"Sam," said Lucifer, staring down at his brother. "I want to formally welcome you and your brother to Detroit. It's a lovely city."

All of Dean's breath flew out of his body and his heart stopped beating for a moment. He watched in a panic as Sam's face went completely white. He was positive his was doing the same.


	3. Chapter 3

Two Birds, One Stone

By Carol M.

See disclaimers in Part 1

Thanks again everybody for the kind words and support. Enjoy the next part!

Part 3

Dean was in the midst of a full on panic attack. He couldn't breathe. At all. Not even a little. He was hot and sweaty. His vision was swimming in and out. His heart was pounding furiously in his chest like he was running a marathon. Or for his life.

He and his brother weren't ready for this. Hell, forget Sam, HE wasn't ready for this. They hadn't even discussed Detroit yet. It was one of those things that had been put on the back burner, but was always bubbling under the surface, right around the next corner, through the next doorway, at the unuttered end of every sentence that either one of them spoke. They were supposed to have the hard talk, come up with a plan and then Detroit wouldn't be a scary word anymore. But they hadn't. Maybe because no matter what kind of plan they came up with, Detroit was always going to be the most terrifying word on Earth.

But this…this was just wrong. It didn't even seem fair. They were both at their weakest, physically, mentally and spiritually. Which is what Lucifer had probably been counting on all along. Dean cursed himself for letting both himself and his brother get so rundown. He knew better. It was the end of the world for God's sake. He needed to be sharp and on his toes always. Always.

Through his hazy vision, he could see Sam gazing at him, terror in his eyes. Sammy didn't know what to do. He was looking at him with little brother eyes, silently begging for Dean to tell him what to do. It had been a long time since he had seen that look in his brother's eye. Not since he had gotten back from hell and definitely not since the start of the apocalypse. Maybe not even since Dean had come and gotten him from Stanford. Not really. This was an expression of pure panic, but it was controlled, as only hunters could manage and one that only Dean himself would recognize.

The look gave him focus…a goal. He had to be strong for his brother. Like he always had before, before the psychic dreams and the visions and the demon blood and the super powers. Like he had been raised to do. It was the thing Dean was probably the best at in his life, for better or worse.

He closed his eyes, took as deep a breath as his injured ribs would allow and cut his panic attack off right there. He opened his eyes then and looked at his brother, giving him a half-cocked smile and a little nod. Sam seemed to relax a bit and returned the nod, his mouth trying to form a smile, but not quite getting there. It was enough.

Lucifer ended the contact between the brothers and as he stepped in between them, cutting off their line of sight to one another. "I trust both of you gentlemen are aware of what game we're playing?"

Dean snorted, causing snot to run down the back of his throat. He ignored it. "Yeah, it's called guess who's the most evil son of a bitch in the room. And the answer would be you. Tell me what I've won Vanna?"

Lucifer chuckled almost sadly. "You've got such mirth in you Dean. I admire that quality in you. I really am sorry it had to come to this."

"Yeah, me too," said Dean.

He craned his neck so he could see Sam, looking him deep in the eyes, trying to memorize his face. "Sammy, be strong. I love you, man," he said, breathing through the lump that was threatening to form in his throat.

He could tell his brother was trying to do the same, but wasn't quite as successful as he spied a few tears slip out of his eyes. "Love you too," said Sam, finally managing that smile he had attempted earlier, even if it was a little on the doom and gloom side.

Lucifer noted the exchange between the brothers. "I had a family too once. I'm touched by the love you clearly have for one another. It's refreshing."

"Quit sweet talking us, Devil Wears Prada," said Dean. "You wanna break me? Break my brother? Take over the world? Then go ahead and do it."

Lucifer nodded in acknowledgement and stepped aside, eyeing Sam. "All it takes is one word, Sam. Yes. Your brother won't have to suffer and you can quit fighting against your destiny and finally be at peace."

Sam glared up at Lucifer, a murderous look in his eye. "Screw you."

"As you wish," said Lucifer.

He turned towards Dean, focusing intensely on him and then swung his head up towards the ceiling. Dean felt himself flying up even higher into the air and then was pelting down to the hard marble floor before he knew which way was up. His feet jolted violently on impact, the left one taking the brunt of the assault. A crunching sound, followed by a sharp, nausea inducing pain tore at his left ankle. He looked down and saw that it was quickly swelling to the size of a baseball.

He heard Sam gasp as he was lifted into the air again, this time even higher. Then poof, almost like a bullet, he was shot down to Earth too quickly to brace himself for the impact. His ankle exploded then, a pain so intense he swore his ankle bone had been torn out of him. He screamed out before he could help himself, his eyes streaming down tears of pain.

"Dean!" he heard Sam scream.

"I'm fine Sammy," he managed to whisper. He looked at his brother and saw he was staring at him, a haunted look in his eyes. "You hear me, Sam, I'm fine!"

"You're such a bad liar, dude," said Sam, sniffling softly.

"This can all stop Sam," said Lucifer.

"No," said Sam so softly it was almost a whisper.

Lucifer put his hand out in front of himself and waved it sideways back and forth. Suddenly, it was like Dean was getting pummeled like a punching bag by Rocky Balboa. Blow after blow after blow landed against his cheek, his nose, his eyes, his mouth, each blow more powerful then the next. Blood exploded out of his nose and mouth like a geyser, splattering on the floor. The blood choked the back of his throat, making it even harder than it already was to breath.

"Ready for it to stop, Sam?" asked Lucifer. He shifted his hand to the right sharply, landing a blow so hard that it caused Dean's head to lurch back violently. Dean fought like hell as his eyes went starry and his hearing began to tunnel out on him. He was going to pass out. He moaned harshly, trying to work up some energy to stay conscious. But he just couldn't. His eyes shut on their own and his head rolled down to rest on his chest.

But a harsh snap jerked him right back to consciousness. He peered up at Lucifer, who was smiling at him with a devil's gleam in his eye. "Sorry Dean, but you're not allowed to sit this out."

Dean titled his head limply towards Lucifer and spit out about a gallon of blood and phlegm all over him. "Eat it, douche."

The remark was rewarded with Lucifer taking his entire arm and swinging it forcefully across his body. A blow landed against Dean's back so hard, it literally took his breath away for a moment. He managed a choked sob of pain that sounded more like a wounded animal than a man. He noticed that Sam looked away for a moment when the sound came out of him. He hated himself for doing it and being so weak, but he just hurt. He hurt so damn bad.

Hours later, Castiel was still stuck in the hospital parking lot. It seemed like an eternity. He felt manic and panicked and sick and helpless. Feeling. It was definitely new to him. He didn't care for it much. It made everything entirely too messy.

Even though his powers were cut off, he still had somewhat of a sixth sense when it came to Dean. He always had, ever since he had first found the man in hell. He could tell when Dean was energetic and bright, when he was weak, when he was in despair, when he was near death. Right now, he detected a low and dark energy coming from Dean, one that held great strength, extraordinary strength, but strength that was quickly fading. Ironically, Castiel suspected it was that very strength and courage that had made Dean the perfect vessel for Michael in the first place.

He was running out of time. And he didn't have a damn clue what the hell to do, as Dean would've said. So he looked helplessly to the sky and began to scream out like a crazy man to his father. He had lost all faith in everything he knew, everything that was supposed to be good and he couldn't tell where the line of evil began anymore. He didn't know if Zachariah and Michael were right or if Lucifer had it right. He just didn't know.

So he continued to call out to his father, his Lord. Because he was the only one that could help him and tell him what to do. Or so he prayed.

"Father!" he continued to scream.

Dean continued to hover in the air, trying to breathe through his mangled nose, the intense pain in his back having faded to a far away ache. He wasn't sure if that was good or bad. He was pretty sure it was bad. His body was starting to lose it. He was going in to shock.

"Dean, you okay?" asked Sam. His brother could barely look him in the eye.

"It's gonna be okay Sam, it's gonna be okay," said Dean in as strong a voice as his broken and sickly body would allow.

Sam nodded. "Yeah."

"I need you to promise me…promise me…if…when I go, you don't say yes," said Dean, the lump once again back in his throat as he struggled to talk. This time he didn't have the strength to fight it. "No matter what he does…you can't say yes. You say yes and that means I failed. It means my whole life has been a meaningless pile of steaming crap." He couldn't stop the tears from coming.

Sam was already there. "I promise," he said. He looked as if he wanted to say more, but the words couldn't or wouldn't come out.

Dean understood and trusted with all of his heart every word that had or hadn't come out of his brother's mouth. "I know you do Sammy."

Lucifer stepped to Dean then and for the first time, actually touched him, his hand cupping Dean's cheek and tightening on his neck. It wasn't painful, more like sickening. Darkening. He felt the evil inside of Lucifer, felt the bad energy sucking the life out of him. He moaned softly as he felt all of the fight go out of him. Then he was being hurled through the air, straight towards a brick wall on the opposite side of the room. He heard Sam screaming in the distance. He braced himself for the blow, but there wasn't much point. He felt the impact against the brick snap more bones and the fall against the marble floor break even more. He couldn't feel the pain much anymore though. He was going numb.

He lay on the floor in a broken, bloody, boneless heap. He couldn't move. He could barely even breathe. He could hear the sound of Sam sobbing. He felt bad there was nothing he could do to comfort him. He just hoped he had taught him well. That he had been a good big brother. He had given it everything he had.

"Let's see if you're a man of your word, Sammy," he heard Lucifer say. "Can you really let your brother die?"

Dean was being lifted up again. He felt himself float up to the wall and then felt his body get pinned against it like an insect. He glanced in what he hoped was Sam's direction, though he couldn't really see much through the spins and hazy vision, and tried to wink. "Did…good…Sam," he murmured.

Then he felt the hands of what seemed like ten men grasp his throat and he could no longer breathe. Strangulation. It was as good a way to go as any. His eyes closed and his body began to relax as the last of the pain began to leave him. He was dying. And God help him, it felt wonderful.

There was a brilliant flash of light that he could detect even behind closed eyes and he assumed it was the end. He wondered if he was going to see his dad again. Or maybe his mom. Then suddenly he felt the pain again. He realized he could breathe, albeit, not well. He fell to the floor once again, disoriented. He looked in the direction he thought Sam had been. He saw shadows and heard footsteps.

He rolled over onto his back, his broken bones shifting everywhere in his body. He looked up and saw Zachariah accompanied by a man who was much younger, probably about the same age as Dean himself. He assumed it was another angel.

"Michael, it's been a long time," he heard Lucifer say.


	4. Chapter 4

Two Birds, One Stone

By Carol M.

See first part for disclaimers…

Part 3

Dean gazed up at Michael with dreamlike fascination from his dazed position on the floor. The angel, or his vessel that is, was younger than Dean had previously guessed, probably only about 21 or 22. He was built long and lean and tattoos covered both of his arms. His eyes flashed with hunger and life as if he was always going to be cock of the walk, no matter what room he was in or who else was there. He reminded Dean of himself.

Michael peered down at him, sizing him up. "Interesting to meet you, Dean Winchester."

"But…I thought…I'm your vessel," said Dean, barely able to get out the words.

Zachariah piped up. "It's a rental. Desperate times and all that."

Michael moved closer to Dean and stood over him like a towering giant. He shook his finger down at him slightly. "You're sure as hell lucky that a gang banger found God and prayed to do his part to save the world. Course, I'm only at half speed. You say yes and all that pain goes away. We go over there, kick my darling baby brother back where he belongs and end the apocalypse right here in this room. You up for it, brother?"

"Being your brother…doesn't," Dean coughed, "seem to end all that well. Gonna pass."

"Suit yourself. When things get bad enough, you'll change your mind. In the meantime, enjoy your healing. Your natural healing. Looks like it's gonna take awhile," said Michael in a sarcastic tone.

"Michael, perhaps he just needs a little more convincing. From the looks of him, I don't think it'll take much," said Zachariah.

"Oh please," said Michael. "I want a vessel that's strong of mind and body and not some wimp who's afraid to get a little blood on their hands. He's not ready. Gang banger Christopher will have to do for now."

Michael's gaze shifted intently over to Lucifer and Dean felt a slight chill run through his body at the look. "You ready little brother?" asked Michael.

Lucifer sighed dramatically. "Why are you always against me? Always. Can't you just see my side…for once."

"No. I can't," said Michael matter of factly. "Play time is over. Either get in line or go back down under Lucifer."

"You're going to have to make me Michael. I don't answer to you or to our father anymore," said Lucifer.

"Fine," said Michael. He beamed himself across the room and landed right in front of Lucifer.

"You're not at full capacity," said Lucifer.

"Neither are you," said Michael as he landed a savage blow against Lucifer's cheek that sent the devil flying across the room. A few moments later, Lucifer had recovered and the two brothers began trading punches like Rocky Balboa and Apollo Creed.

Moments later, Dean felt himself being scooped up by his own brother's mess of arms and pulled into his lap, obviously freed of Lucifer's pull. "Dean…oh god," said Sam as he examined Dean's injuries.

Zachariah bent down over them, giving Dean a deathly glare. "He's going to look a lot worse than that when I'm through with him."

Dean felt himself being pulled from the protective grasp of his brother and suspended in the air again, this time by Zachariah.

"Let him go!" screamed Sam. He struggled to get up, but once again had been put in his place.

Zachariah ignored him and nodded towards the battling brothers. Michael was starting to look a little bloodied. "Look at that! Look at that! We can end all of this right now. Stop being so damn stubborn and embrace your destiny!"

"Screw my destiny," mumbled Dean.

Zachariah glared at him and then touched his hand to Dean's chest. It felt like a bomb had gone off inside him. The pain was so intense it brought tears to Dean's eyes. "No," he gasped.

"Want more? I can give you more," said Zachariah. This time he touched Dean's back and Dean felt flames of fire burn through his skin. He whimpered in sheer misery.

"Stop it!" growled Sam.

"What's it going to take Dean?" asked Zachariah. "Want me to kill your brother?"

Dean managed to lock eyes with Sam. "Sammy," he gasped.

"Let him kill me Dean," said Sam in a defiant tone. "Be worth it just so the bastard doesn't get what he wants."

Dean felt himself gain a little strength from that statement. He gave Sam a slight nod and turned back to Zachariah. "Kill us both you balding pile of crap," he wheezed.

Zachariah stepped back for a moment, glancing over at Michael and Lucifer, who by now were throwing each other into the stain glass windows of the cathedral. He grimaced tightly and then looked back at Dean, a murderous look in his eye. "Alright Dean, enough screwing around. Time to go for the jugular."

Dean had no time to react as a he felt Zachariah place a hand on his forehead, followed by a giant flash of light. He heard Sam shout in the distance as his mind went on a trip somewhere else.

**

Castiel's throat was burning from over usage. "Father!"

Over and over and over again he yelled. His voice was so hoarse and shallow now he supposed the point was probably moot. That was until he felt something akin to a hot coal burning in his jacket pocket. Curiously, he reached inside and pulled out Dean's amulet, which he had kept on him for so many months. It was burning bright red.

"My child," came a deep but soft voice from behind him.

He turned around and saw a man in his early fifties with brown hair and brown eyes. The face seemed familiar, but he couldn't quite place the vessel.

"Father?" said Castiel with the gentleness of a child. "I knew you'd come."

"I want you to help me fix things, Castiel," said God.

"I don't know how," said Castiel.

"Sure you do. You've had it right all along. Have a little faith…in yourself."

"I recruited Zachariah and Michael to save the Winchesters. But I'm afraid I've made a terrible mistake. I didn't know what to do and I was desperate," said Castiel.

"This isn't Sam and Dean's fight. Not now at least. The time may come when it will be," said God.

"Why don't you know??" asked Castiel. "Aren't you supposed to have all the answers!"

"Free will Castiel. Every being…angel, demon, human…has their own set of choices to make. Contrary to popular belief, I merely provide guidance. I don't have control over the whole universe. I just have better powers of persuasion than most. And a talent for creation. But beyond that, I exert no more power over anyone than you do. I'm just God."

"No you're not! You're supposed to be more than that! You're supposed to be everything!"

"I am what I am Castiel, just like you. I do the best I can. That's all I can do. That's all anyone can do," said God.

"What's my best father?" asked Castiel.

For a moment, the amulet's glow fizzled out, like a candle flickering. Castiel could swear he could see the man behind the vessel of God. "Keep those boys safe. Protect them. Do everything you can to make sure nothing bad happens to them. They're good boys. Both of them. They'll do what needs to be done when the time comes."

"How am I supposed to get them back?" asked Castiel.

The amulet glowed red again. "You'll find a way Castiel."

"We need your help, father. We need you to help us stop this," said Castiel.

"Everything will work out as it should. Have a little faith." God put his hand on Castiel's forehead and then there was a flash of light.

**

Dean's physical pain was gone, instead replaced with a deep panicked sorrow in his heart. It was the feeling he got whenever he had failed, especially his father or his brother. Or when he had broken in hell. It was the good old let's pick on Dean Winchester hate fest. And no one did a better job of that then Dean himself. From the scene in front of him, he had failed big time.

Sam was the one fighting Michael in the cathedral. He had said yes apparently. And he was kicking Michael's ass. And it was all Dean's fault.

His father was standing next to him, looking at him with such disgust and disappointment, he wanted to crawl into a hole and die. "You did this Dean," said John.

Dean started to cry. He couldn't help it. He was weak and a loser and nothing. He had failed everyone he loved and because of it, the world was going to end. "I'm sorry, dad," he sobbed. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I tried so hard."

"You finish it then," said John firmly. "You say yes to Michael right now and finish this."

Something inside Dean paused. "We'll destroy half the world, dad. It's not right."

"Fix your mess, Dean," said John. "Now!"

"No," murmured Dean. "This isn't the right play, dad."

"You've left us no choice. Now say yes!"

"No!"

"Damn it, Dean!"

"No, I can't," sobbed Dean, shaking his head violently. "This isn't right, dad. You taught me better than this. You want me to kill Sam, fine I'll…I'll…kill him. But I won't say yes. Not now, not ever."

"You're ending the world Dean," said John. "Look at them. Lucifer…your brother…he's winning. Are you going to let it all end? Fail not only your family, but the whole world?"

"I can't say yes, dad," sobbed Dean in a whisper. "I won't. I'm sorry."

There was a brilliant flash of light. Dean fell to the ground in confusion, his physical pain hitting him full force. He glanced over at the fight between the angels and realized with a start that it wasn't Sam and Michael fighting. It was the other vessel.

"Dean!"

He looked in the direction of the voice and saw Sam, tears of concern sparkling in his eyes. "Sammy?" said Dean, relief flooding through him like he had just woken up from a nightmare. He looked up to see Zachariah standing over him. It had been a trick. And behind Zachariah, stood Castiel. He reached a singular hand out to Zachariah's forehead and his head began to glow brightly, brighter than any angel flash Dean had ever witnessed. Then Zachariah was gone.

Lucifer and Michael abruptly stopped their fighting, eyeing Castiel strangely. Then, Lucifer quickly did a disappearing act of his own.

Michael sighed in exhaustion and staggered over towards Dean, who felt himself being pulled protectively into Sam's arms. "This isn't over," said Michael. He leaned down and got right in Dean's face. He felt Sam pull him back. "You'll wish that this had ended right here. Believe me." He looked up and gave Castiel a death glare. "You too, Castiel." Then, he was gone.

Dean groaned in relief and sagged all the way into Sam's arms, completely spent.

"It's over, Dean, it's over. You can let go. I got you now. I'll protect us both," whispered Sam. Normally, Dean would have protested the tender words, but quite honestly, it's what he needed to hear. He needed permission to take his body and his mind off Death Con 1.

"Cas," slurred Dean. "You're timing…

"Rocks," finished Sam. "How'd you do it?"

Castiel pulled the amulet out of his pocket and gently hung it back around Dean's neck. The moment the amulet hit his chest, he felt a part of himself return.

Castiel gave them both the closest thing he had ever seen to a smile. "Call it divine intervention."

Dean fingered the amulet and looked up at Castiel in surprise when he realized then amulet was still warm.

"You'll be protected," said Castiel, acknowledging Dean's silent inquiry. "Both of you."

Dean felt Sam's grip tighten on him for the briefest of moments. "Thanks," said Sam.

It was the last thing Dean heard before he let himself shut down and slip into blissful, pain free unconsciousness.

TBC


	5. Epilogue

Two Birds, One Stone

By Carol M.

See disclaimers in Part 1

I want to thank everyone for reading and a special thank you to all who reviewed, favorited and story alerted. That really helps to motivate and is very much appreciated

Hope you all enjoy the last part!

Epilogue

Dean was in a warm cocoon of peace and safety. The only thing that was threatening his nirvana was the steadily increasing sound of what he could've sworn was Martha Stewart's voice. He opened his eyes groggily and realized he was in a hospital. His brother was splayed out in one of the visitor's chairs staring up at a blasting television that was nailed to the wall.

"Dude, what the hell are you watching?" whispered Dean hoarsely.

Sam jumped in surprise, nearly falling to the floor. "Dean! You're awake!"

"Martha Stewart, Sam, really? Well I guess we know who'll be making our holiday baskets this year," said Dean.

Sam chuckled in amusement and then sat down on the edge of his bed. "Welcome back, man."

Dean groaned as he tried to move his body, feeling deep rooted aches and pains, along with a few casts and bandages. "What's the damage?" he asked hesitantly.

"Broken right ankle, broken left arm, three broken ribs, two cracked ribs, a concussion and a couple hundred cuts and bruises," said Sam. "Pretty lucky considering."

"Chicks dig scars anyway," said Dean, inhaling as deeply as his broken body would allow. He realized the phlegm was gone from his chest. "Think I kicked the flu."

"You've been out six days, Dean, four of those spent on an I.V.," said Sam.

Dean raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Six days? Son of a bitch." He relaxed back into his pillow, grateful that he could just be for the moment and not have any responsibility on his shoulders. The relaxation quickly turned to worry when he saw the look of sorrow that had crept into his brother's eyes. "What is it Sam?"

Sam shook his head slightly. "No, it's just…watching you…watching you go through all that…and I couldn't do a damn thing. I felt helpless…you know. Part of me …I…I just wanted to do something. And I couldn't."

"I know you did, Sammy," said Dean. "You did exactly what you should've done. Exactly what I wanted you to do."

"Yeah, I know…but still. I'm sorry you had to go through that," said Sam.

"You did good Sam. I'm proud of you. Hell, dad would be proud of you," said Dean.

"Yeah," said Sam.

"You know, they were expecting us to fold…Lucifer and Michael both. But we didn't. Neither one of us. And we changed things. We changed the timeline. Lucifer's going off book now, man. Maybe that gives us the edge we need. Stick to our rules and take Lucifer down our way, like we always every other hunt. I know we haven't had much luck so far, but maybe the house is starting to turn in our favor," said Dean.

"That'd be a nice change of pace," said Sam.

"Tell me about it," said Dean. "We're in this to the end. Together. If there's a way, we'll find it."

Sam nodded, the misty look disappearing from his eyes. "Sounds good."

"But before that, we need a damn vacation," said Dean. "I'm freakin' exhausted."

Sam smiled and nodded. "Right there with you, man. Right there with you."

Dean smiled lazily as the need for more sleep crept up on him. "Just no place cold," he murmured as his eyes drifted shut.

That's All Folks!


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